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<h1><b>The Raven</b> by Edgar Allen Poe (Excerpt)</h1>

<p>
  “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—<br>
  Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,<br>
  Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—<br>
  On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—<br>
  Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”<br>
  Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

<p>
  “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!<br>
  By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—<br>
  Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,<br>
  It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—<br>
  Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”<br>
  Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

<p>
  “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—<br>
  “Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!<br>
  Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!<br>
  Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!<br>
  Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”<br>
  Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

<p>
  And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting<br>
  On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;<br>
  And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,<br>
  And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;<br>
  And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor<br>
  Shall be lifted—nevermore!
